


Cheesy Goodness

by Daegaer



Category: Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Anthropomorphic Personifications, Cheese, Gen, International Relations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-03
Updated: 2010-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-10 09:02:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romano is yet again alarmed by the fruits of his brother's friendships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cheesy Goodness

**Author's Note:**

> Recently there was culinary consternation in Italy when it was discovered that [a batch of German-made mozzarella was not quite as it should be](http://daegaer.livejournal.com/1086874.html). Thank you to [](http://puddingcat.livejournal.com/profile)[**puddingcat**](http://puddingcat.livejournal.com/) for beta-ing, and for the line about olive oil.

  
"What the fuck am I supposed to do now?" Romano shrieked, gesturing wildly with his glass and spilling Rioja liberally over the floor, Spain and the nearest wall. "How am I ever supposed to hold my head up in the fucking international community again?"  
"It's not so bad," Spain said, trying to refill the glass before giving up as Romano's gestures grew wilder.  
"Not so bad? _Not so fucking bad?_ I have been _shamed_! I'm going to be leaving fucking horse's heads in that potato-eating bastard's bed for a century, is what I'm going to be doing –"  
"It'd be more convenient if you asked Veneziano to do that, wouldn't it –"  
"Argh!"  
Spain coughed as Romano dropped the glass, lunged over the table and choked him, tightening and loosening his grip in counterpoint to his words.  
"The – whole – world – is – laughing –"  
"Romano –" Spain croaked.  
" – at – me – and – my – brother –"  
"_Romano_ –"  
"_What?_  
"Can't – breathe –"  
Romano reluctantly stopped strangling him, and buried his head in his hands. "How could he _do_ it?" he wailed. "To innocent _mozzarella?_"  
"At least it happened in a northern city," Spain said hoarsely, rubbing his throat. "Everyone knows it's Veneziano's problem, not yours –" He pursed his lips as Romano banged his forehead on the table. "You'll give yourself a headache, you know."  
"It reflects badly on me, you stupid bastard," Romano yelled. "We have _reputations_ to keep up! You _know_ what Italian men are supposed to be like!"  
_Awfully cute when they're apoplectic_ didn't seem like it would be a diplomatic thing to say, so Spain settled for a sympathetic, hopefully knowledgeable sound..  
"We're supposed to be good in . . . you know what we're supposed to be good at!"  
"Stallions," Spain agreed, trying not to laugh and failing.  
"_Thank_ you. Yes. And now everyone knows that despite his _long_ and fucking _embarrassing_ relationship with that, that –"  
"Potato-eating bastard?"  
"_Yes!_ Everyone now knows my brother's so useless at inciting sexual ecstasy that his . . . _boyfriend_ " - Romano managed to hiss the word despite its lack of sibilants – "is reduced to publicly displaying a ridiculous set of blue balls!"  
Spain wondered if Romano would believe he was crying from sympathy rather than laughter. He bit his lip and tried to evade the slaps raining down on his head. It seemed not. "At least _your_ reputation is intact," he gasped, wheezing with the effort it cost to laugh after strangulation. "_I've_ never sent caseloads of blue mozzarella to your house." He decided it wouldn't be politic to bring up the topic of extra-virgin olive oil.  
"Shut up! Bastard, how can you be so vulgar –"  
Spain forbore to mention that he hadn't been the one to start this line of conversation, and just trapped Romano's hand in his. "Have more wine," he said, and managed to get a full glass back into Romano's hand and even half-way towards Romano's mouth. "Stay for dinner?"  
"It's not like I can show my face at _home,_" Romano whined. "Stupid little brother –"  
"Stay for breakfast?" Spain said hopefully.  
" . . . maybe," Romano said grudgingly.  
"Your impressive and well-earned reputation is always safe with me."  
"Your wine is shit," Romano grumbled, pouring himself another large glass and almost though not quite leaning against Spain's side. It was about as good as it got, and Spain smiled cheerily at how quickly he'd turned Romano's mood around.  
He still probably shouldn't make caprese salad with the imported cheese, though, he thought.


End file.
